


Gash

by guanoo



Series: Nines~ [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e16 Blade Runners, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guanoo/pseuds/guanoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[coda to 9.16]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gash

When they returned to the bunker, Dean was still grumbling about evil sons of bitches scratching up his baby. Sam collapsed in an armchair, pinching the bridge of his nose. His mind drifted predictably to Dean dying, over and over. A nasty little voice in his head reminded him that he couldn't deal with it again. He just couldn't. After they'd iced Dick Roman, and Dean had disappeared, Sam hadn't been able to face the possibility that Dean had gotten... He hadn't wanted to know.

It took a lot out of him to see Dean overtaken by the Mark of Cain. It occurred to him that, with the way supernatural things played out, he might end up being Abel one of these days, but right now he was too tired to care. He was startled out of his reverie by Dean approaching, first aid kit in hand. Sam gazed up at him a little warily. He could take care of the cuts on his face by himself, obviously.

"Sorry, my nurse outfit's in the wash," Dean joked, eyeing Sam's cuts with a frown.

"Dude, I think I can manage," Sam said with a short laugh. "It's just a scratch."

Dean looked him directly in the eyes. "Why don't you let me take care of it," he said, quite compellingly. Sam felt a rush of attraction, and found himself suddenly empathetic towards Dr. McElroy. Hell, in her shoes, he would have flirted with Dean too. To make matters worse, they were alone in the bunker now, and he knew Dean would let him do... well, pretty much anything. He tried not to think about it - that sort of thought generally led to his circulatory system suddenly making executive decisions at inappropriate times. Dean was kneeling at his feet.

"Dean," he said quickly, grabbing Dean's wrist as the smell of antiseptic hit his nose. Dean stared. Now was really a bad time. Sam's guard was down, and for some reason, Dean looked particularly beautiful in a threadbare white t-shirt and sweatpants. He smelled nice, too, Sam noticed. He gathered that Dean must have showered while Sam had been sitting there, lost in thought. And he'd _shaved_. Sam felt his eyebrows go up. His thoughts wandered down that dark road of earthly pleasures, as they often did when he was in close proximity with his partner. Once their bodies were connected, Dean would open for him like a little flower. All the tension between them would ease. Dean would stop shooting him forlorn looks. He'd gaze up into Sam's eyes and wrap his legs around Sam's back and...

"Sammy, _relax_ , man," Dean said incredulously, breaking eye contact. Sam was suddenly aware of their postures - he was leaning forward, muscles tense, gripping the arm of the chair with one hand, and probably squeezing Dean's wrist too tightly with the other. He quickly let go, and Dean sat back on his heels, rubbing his wrist and staring at the floor.

"Sorry," Sam whispered.

Dean frowned down at the cotton ball covered in antiseptic. He must have dropped it in surprise when Sam grabbed his wrist. "Don't worry about it," he said casually, splashing antiseptic on another cotton ball. Sam was starting to get worried when Dean looked directly into his eyes and fucking _grinned._ Sam scowled back.

"I said I can manage."

"And I said, _let me_ ," Dean growled, smile vanishing. Sam's breath caught - Dean was stunning, sleek and powerful and in control. Then he smiled again, a little seductively. "Now come here," he said lightly.

Not really sure why he was listening to his idiot brother, Sam scooted forward in the chair. "That's it," Dean said soothingly, and, before Sam knew what was happening, Dean sat astride him, so close that their stomachs brushed, and set to work cleaning the cuts on Sam's face and neck, lips pursed in concentration.

Sam decided his best plan of action was to hold very still and hope Dean wouldn't notice his loud, erratic heartbeat or his growing erection - any move he made at this point would only accentuate his obvious arousal, which wouldn't work since Dean was fucking _straddling_ him. Sam glanced down, and nope, sweatpants don't hide boners very well. So they were both turned on, and alone, with only a few layers of fabric separating their bodies, and the proximity was just... He definitely wanted to take Dean to bed - _Or we could screw right here_ , his animal brain thought - but things simply couldn't go that way. They fucked to avoid talking about their problems, typically. That wasn't going to work this time. Too much was at stake. Sam scoffed, pulling his face away from Dean's strong, gentle fingers.

"It's clean enough," he said.

Dean blinked. "Right," he murmured. He got up and started fishing through the first aid supplies for ointment or bandages or something. Sam stared at his ass ruefully, then got to his feet, ready to leave. Since he found himself facing Dean, who was holding a bottle of healing ointment and looking innocent, he shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans, trying to pin the evidence of his arousal to his leg.

"Almost done, Sammy," Dean said, too softly. Guilt throbbed in Sam's chest as Dean smeared first aid ointment on the side of his face. He wiped the remaining goo off on his sweatpants and gazed at Sam again in an open, almost neutral way, which made his expression difficult to read but his motive painfully obvious.

"Dean," he said pointlessly.

"Yeah?"

Sam's heart was beating too fast and Dean was all soft eyelashes and green eyes and parted lips and why did he have to look so goddamn _vulnerable?_ Sam felt his love for his brother stirring in the deepest places of his body and soul and it hurt, because it went against everything he'd been fighting to keep sane. Dean stared up at him, wide eyes full of uncertainty and he felt his hands grabbing Dean's hips, squaring their bodies, pulling Dean forward. Dean looked up at him with surprise, brow creasing with a question. They stared into each other's eyes for a long minute, tips of their noses a mere inch apart. Then Sam called on every bit of reserved strength he had and turned away. He heard Dean exhale behind his back with a small huff, as if he'd been holding his breath. Sam clenched his fists, and by sheer force of will, walked away from the most important thing he'd ever had in his life.


End file.
